


Days passing

by iwritesomestuffsometimes



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: After endgame, Angst, Hydra (Marvel), M/M, WinterFalcon - Freeform, kinda garbage but I like it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 09:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,402
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19003288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwritesomestuffsometimes/pseuds/iwritesomestuffsometimes
Summary: Sometimes life is difficult. But there are some things that make it easier. Things like smiles and food brought in a steady rotation so that no matter how confused Bucky was he could always figure out how long he had been out for. Now it’s true that he didn’t get very many smiles at the moment seeing how he was in a jail cell but he wanted to keep the memories deep in his chest. Steve’s smiles, Nat’s smiles, Clint’s smiles, and when he was most desperate Sam’s smiles. He kept those close to his chest because if they dug in his head he didn’t want to lose them. They were his guide. And the doctor swore that that wasn’t going to happen and that Bucky was going to go home soon. But Bucky didn’t even know where home was anymore. Was it the Avenger’s headquarters which they were frantically rebuilding? Was it Wakanda with its perfect people and perfect rooms? Neither seemed right but it certainly wasn’t the Hydra headquarters scattered throughout the world.





	Days passing

Sometimes life is difficult. But there are some things that make it easier. Things like smiles and food brought in a steady rotation so that no matter how confused Bucky was he could always figure out how long he had been out for. Now it’s true that he didn’t get very many smiles at the moment seeing how he was in a jail cell but he wanted to keep the memories deep in his chest. Steve’s smiles, Nat’s smiles, Clint’s smiles, and when he was most desperate Sam’s smiles. He kept those close to his chest because if they dug in his head he didn’t want to lose them. They were his guide. And the doctor swore that that wasn’t going to happen and that Bucky was going to go home soon. But Bucky didn’t even know where home was anymore. Was it the Avenger’s headquarters which they were frantically rebuilding? Was it Wakanda with its perfect people and perfect rooms? Neither seemed right but it certainly wasn’t the Hydra headquarters scattered throughout the world. 

But Bucky didn’t have time to ponder these things. Or rather he did but he chose not to. He wanted to sleep. So much death had happened. He wouldn’t get any more smiles from Natasha and none from the Steve he once knew. Clint had mostly stopped smiling at this point and Bucky couldn’t blame him. And Sam. God Sam hurt the most. He hadn't come to see Bucky once. Bucky couldn't blame him though. It would make things much easier if the new Captain America wasn’t busy associating with known criminals who can barely control their own thoughts. So it was much easier to sleep than to think of any of this. 

It was hard to keep track down here but Bucky was pretty sure it had been five days. There was only sleep and no sleep. Meals and no meals. That was it at this point. Everyone that cared about him anymore. It hurt to know that there was no one left for Bucky to cry too. But he didn’t cry anymore because there were already so many tears. The doctor said they were working on it and Bucky would be free soon but Bucky wasn’t sure how smart that was. 

It had been six days and Sam still hadn’t visited. Sam had promised that he would come but he hadn’t. Bucky should have known. Nobody kept their promises. There was no point. There was only death. And so Bucky sat and cried but kept them silent so nobody would see or think of anything different. So nobody would know how broken Bucky was anymore. He cried oceans and streams creating his own world where nobody could touch him. He cried until there was no more water left in him and he was left dry heaving on the floor. Nobody came to visit that day much less Sam. 

It had been seven days. Bucky was sleeping and not moving anymore. He only woke up when there was pounding and screaming and pain. So much pain. Bucky welcomed it letting it wash his face of tears. Bucky let it stream through his veins staining him red once more. 

It had been eight days and Bucky woke up in a different world. A familiar world. A world of pain and death. He recognized this place. This was his home, his womb the place of his birth. But no. That was wrong. He was born in Brooklyn. This wasn’t his home it was his prison. Hydra had him again. But how? This wasn’t right. They promised he was safe now. But he wasn’t. He trashed and pulled at the chains binding him to the table. That’s when he felt it. His arm that Shuri made for him. The arm that was his and nobody else’s and not a symbol of death was not there. 

It had been nine days and Bucky was tired. His arm hurt but then it didn’t. They gave him drugs and Bucky took them by the handful. They took everything away. Leaving him stripped bare for the artist to reshape. A lump of clay waiting to become a masterpiece. An empty canvas waiting for someone to sign their name. His arm was back. It was silver and red. He thought it was black and gold. His head hurt. More drugs. Blissful sleep. When he woke, he looked for his smiles. They were there. Steve, Nat, and Sam. A feeling of missing overtook him. He screamed. Everything hurt. He snapped the chains. He had to get out of here. This wasn’t where he was supposed to be. Door. There had to be a door. The door opened. A man walked in. More drugs. More sleep. Bucky screamed but no one heard once more. 

It had been ten days and Bucky no longer remembered anything. He looked for something but he didn’t know what it was. There was nothing left. No names, no drugs, no smiles. No Sam. Sam who was Sam? It rang in his mind echoing over and over again. Sam… Sam… Sam. Who are you, Sam? Bucky tried to ask but his mouth no longer worked. Or maybe it was his mind that didn’t work. Where was Sam? He wanted Sam. Who was Sam? He needed to find him. He needed to kill him. He needed a friend. Where was he? 

It had been twenty-three days and Bucky didn’t know where he was. There was blood everywhere. There were no more drugs. He felt half complete. Like someone was putting him together and lost a piece. He tried. He dug through his brain. He had killed him. He had killed them all as they screamed. But why? Why did he do it? For Sam wheezed out of his lips. A forgotten name. He didn’t know anymore. He just remembered pain. Pain for trying to escape for that name. That name Sam. No more Sam. Sam hurt him over and over again. All he felt was pain with Sam. Sam was gone. Removed. 

It had been thirty-one days and Bucky was asleep when he heard gunfire. He heard yells and felt crackling electricity. He was awake. Protection but for who? Hydra. No The Invaders. No Hydra. No Invaders. He crept up the stairs. Hydra. Invaders. Hydra. He needed to protect them. From the villains. There they were. A man with a beard, a man with a bow and sword and a man… Sam… an invader. Not a friend. He needed to die. That was the rule. But Sam screamed his mind. Shut up. It’s an invader. They have to die. He raised his gun and shot. A perfect shot. Except a shield came out of nowhere. He knew that shield. That was the shield. The shield spun through his head echoing breaking everywhere. It bounced through his mind reminding him of everything. That was Thor and that was Clint. And that was Steve. Steve with the shield. But that wasn’t right. He reached. There a locked door. Locked with seventeen locks and pain. Bucky reached for it but all he felt was pain. He didn’t go there. It wasn’t allowed. He needed to go there though. He reached and hit it. A wave of pain. All the pain he could imagine echoing through his mind. A crumple in his knees. He fell. A face hovered in his vision. A face he knew. He wasn’t allowed to know it. He cried. Worlds were made from his tears. Worlds where he danced with his Prince Charming. Worlds where they kissed and smiled. Worlds he should have known. Fake worlds. The real worlds were all just pain. Pain and death. He had to get out of here. He had to not see him anymore. He punched and clawed screaming. Trying to get out of there. This man he knew. No, he didn’t know him. But he leaned in. “I’m sorry man but I’d rather not ruin this shield. It’s still pretty new.” Then he nodded and there was pain. Pain throughout his entire body. Aching screaming pain and then there was nothing.  

It had been seventy-five days and Bucky was in love. He had new worlds. Worlds where he danced and kissed and smiled. Worlds where he sang and woke up in a place he knew. Worlds where all he could feel was happiness. Worlds he loved. 


End file.
